The View From Plum Lick
Tree of knowledge
by: David Dick
Even though I’ve done it before, I’m going to do it at least one more time—sing high praises to my teachers, the gentle authority figures dedicated to the proposition that every mind deserves an equal chance.
There were a few not-so-great instructor apples in the barrel, but the majority by far were as golden and unselfish as I ever deserved. Not a single one led me down any snaky, apple orchard paths. None I knew was involved with reptilian deceptions, real or imagined.
Oh, I’ve heard of a few rowdy educators along the way to the present time, some as under-prepared and misdirected as underpaid and manipulated. No, I speak mainly of the bygone classroom, the one wherein the well-meaning worked, the encouragers and comforters, the leaders to the written word and the meanings buried deep toward the core, where lie the seeds of a better understanding of tomorrow.
As for students, we behaved, shenanigans mild if at all.
The best of the teachers taught us to think for ourselves, you know, the secret of carefully taking apple truth from the tree one at a time—then, peeling away the layers of improving knowledge, going to a single seed, prying it open, meeting the community of individuals inside, shaking hands with them, saying, “Thank you for sharing with me your lessons of learning.”
This exercise, dear children, requires the sharpest of Grandfather’s Hen & Rooster knives. Dull blades won’t do. Rust is the rip and running cousin of disrespect. Things just work better when they’re finely honed. Takes well-salivated whetstone movements—out and back, out and back, around and around, easy does it.
So, please listen carefully.
Two of the greatest of teachers are Mr. and Ms. Experience. They went to UTE—the University of Trial and Error. Students listened to these professors and did not jump to the conclusion that nobody over 30 could be trusted. Perhaps you remember that hippy-happy battle cry. To tell you the truth, I never learned much until I was twice 30—three score for prying open the apple core, 10 for beginning to feel at home with the secret seeds of something even resembling success.
I know—the idea of success has not always met with approval. Why? Maybe it’s because one individual’s achievement seems inevitably at the expense of those less fortunate, bringing to the fore the notion of “the level playing field.” To some this suggests that there shouldn’t be winners or losers, just players.
Wait a minute.
Should not the rewards of success go to the fittest of the fit, the most creative of the creative, the hardest working of the workers? Then, the Bill Gateses of the world can decide how to spend retirement, especially how to give billions to charitable causes. Imagine how it might have been if Bill, born not so very long ago (1955), had been brought into question, “Who told you it was all right to develop computer software? Don’t do anything, Little Bill, until Big Daddy has assigned a committee to study the consequences.”
Or imagine telling Thomas Edison it would be too dangerous to invent the incandescent lamp.
Let’s not forget womankind: Rachel Carson, environmental author of Silent Spring; Emma Lazarus, whose words are inscribed on the base of the Statue of Liberty; Gertrude Ederle, the first woman to swim the English Channel. Did we forget Ella Fitzgerald? We shouldn’t.
It has been said, “It’s not what you know, but what you practice what you know.” And it’s also been said: “If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe,” (Dr. Carl Sagan) or “I’m not smart, but I like to observe. Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton was the one who asked why,” (Bernard M. Baruch).
There is so much to learn at the core of the apple, and it’s there for the peeling. Make cider if that’s your taste, but how much better it is to save seeds for the planting of more trees. Future generations will reap a new harvest, and it doesn’t have to be high-tech. It can be as basic as a smile.
David Dick was a retired news correspondent and University of Kentucky professor emeritus, and a farmer and shepherd. Read more about him at www.kyauthors.com.
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